My 9-year-old self, uniformed in a Mets hat and Coke-bottle glasses, was a Hulkamaniac. It’s embarrassing now for countless reasons. I first saw the man born Terry Bollea as Thunderlips in the 1983 classic Rocky III. He was improbably muscled, blond, and tan: pure kid catnip. I became a World Wrestling Federation fanatic and was glued to the Zenith as Hogan rapidly climbed the WWF ladder. In January 1984, Hogan completed a meteoric rise to defeat the Iron Sheik and avenge the Iran hostage crisis (seriously). That title match wasn’t fake to me. It was as real as game 7 of the World Series, and when Hulk broke free from the Sheik’s dreaded “camel clutch” and secured the pin, I jumped up and down so much that the people downstairs called up to complain.

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